Romance Novels
by Belestrange
Summary: He hadn’t meant to open it, really, honestly, he hadn’t, it had just… happened. RHr, oneshot. rating for Hermione's potty mouth, surprisingly.


AN: I'm back from the dead…or that place of no return writer's block or something. Really. I couldn't write any Harry Potter for months, as you could probably tell from my severe lack of updating. I am so, _so, _SO sorry. But I really wanted to write a R/Hr one shot tonight, and somehow I did. And I think it's pretty damn good. But… there's a catch. Ok, not a catch, you know I can't resist writing, but I have a account now, and it would make me soooo happy if you would go and review the stories there, or even just read them. The people at fictionpress suck and don't review. The link is in my profile, under the "Homepage" thingy. I know you're not going to want to bother, but they're one shots, and they're all romance-y and whatnot, so if you like my work here, you'll like them. They're also about a couple who are _very_ R/Hr-ish, but whom my friend Katt invented (I'm working on a novel with her). So go review them or there will be no new updates…soon. Oh gosh now I feel terrible. Ok enjoy this!

-:Romance Novels:-

It was nearly three in the morning. Harry and Hermione had retired to bed almost four hours ago, leaving Ron all by himself in the common room. He'd said that he had a bit more studying to do, and as they had exams tomorrow, they ought to go to bed without him. It was true that he had about three year's worth of notes to go through, for every single subject, but he couldn't bring himself to open another notebook or look over another worn-out bit of parchment. He just needed to think. Think about Hermione and whatever the fuck was going through is brain right now, which, even he wasn't sure of. He couldn't think in the dorm, not with Harry right there – Harry, who could read his face, his noncommittal grunts, his snores, for Merlin's sake more easily than Hermione could her beloved books. – Harry already knew, he was sure. Harry knew that Ron was madly in love with their other best friend. He was pretty sure Harry could've helped him with it, too, if he'd had the guts to ask, but it seemed like such a girly thing to do that he just couldn't bring himself to.

So that was why he was all alone in the common room three in the bleeding morning. That was when all the trouble started. Okay, so maybe it wasn't really trouble, but it was certainly going to cause _him_ trouble the next time he saw Hermione. It was…a book.

But it wasn't just _any_ book, see, it was…the most…un-Hermione-ish book he'd ever laid eyes on. He hadn't meant to open it, really, honestly, he hadn't, it had just…happened.

He's been sprawled out all over his favourite armchair – the one he and Harry always fought over until Hermione gave a little huff and sat down in the one next to it with her book and reminded them of how immature they were being – when he'd noticed that Hermione's bag was still underneath the chair she'd been occupying earlier. He had, of course, pulled it out and picked it up, with the intention of leaving it at the foot of the girl's staircase for her to find in the morning (or perhaps he should just take it upstairs with him so no one would go through it before she came downstairs?), but he'd seen the spine of a thick, worn-out paperback which looked exactly like the Muggle things his mum read sometimes poking out of the top. And of course, his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd pulled it out of her bag.

He'd gotten a shock when he saw the cover of the book and at first thought that maybe it wasn't Hermione's bag after all, but no – he name was written in neat, loopy cursive inside the front cover. There was a bloke and a girl, painted on the flimsy paper cover, he with is arms around her. She was gazing up at him in a sappy, loving sort of way, sort of like the way his Mum looked at his Dad when he came home very late at night – or very early in the morning – from a "very important excursion" – and the girl's short blue dress wasn't properly buttoned all the way. Her long auburn curls blew in an illustrated wind and obscured part of her face. The bloke was looking down at her as though he were about to kiss her, his blonde hair also tousled by the elements. They were standing in some long grass at the edge of a cliff, with a picturesque sunset behind them. Ron's eyebrows shot up as he caught sight of the title. "_Ravished,"_ it proclaimed in what must have once been very offensively shiny red letters, but seemed to have lost most of their luster in recent years.

He knew what this was. It was one of those trashy romance novels Fred and George always got hold of and read aloud to him and Ginny when they were younger to creep them out while Percy huffed in the corner and threatened to tell Mum that he knew where her personally library was disappearing to. And they were pretty graphic from what he could remember, although he and Ginny had always sort of tried to block out the twins (they _had_ been about seven, after all). He wondered if this one was as graphic as all of his mothers' seemed to be. Now that he thought of it, it wouldn't surprise him all that much. After all, Hermione _did_ have a sort of wild streak. It would make sense that her taste in reading did too. He flipped open to a random page in the middle of the book and began to read:

"…_Then suddenly, he was right there next to her, tearing at her clothes, sending buttons bouncing off of the walls and floor, shredding cotton and lace at the seams. She gave a soft whimper as she pushed his beaten leather jacket over his broad shoulders, then pulled at the buttons on his jeans. He brushed her hands away impatiently, undoing them himself and kicking them to the floor – "_

Ron shut the book with a snap and felt the blood rush to his cheeks, his ears heating up. So Hermione _was _reading books like…_that._ And speaking of Hermione…

He heard light footsteps on the girl's staircase and then Hermione came into view, rubbing her eyes and looking grumpy, as though she couldn't sleep. She was probably stressed about exams and had realized that she'd forgotten her bag downstairs, Ron realized with a jolt. He quickly shoved the book back into her bag and pushed it back under her chair. The problem was that she was watching. Hermione was tired, but not tired enough to miss the fact that Ron was being very blatantly obvious about hiding something in her bag.

"What're you doing, Ron?" She asked blearily, sinking into the chair next to him and pulling out her bag from underneath it. "Are you going through my – oh." She broke off and a blush spread across her cheeks as she realized what he'd been looking at. "It's uh, it's Ginny's. She, um, left it in my room the other day." Her brown eyes avoided his blue ones, and he could tell that she was lying. He laughed softly, not particularly a good move. Her temper flared up instantly.

"What? Why're you laughing? I'm telling the truth! I swear!" Ron laughed harder.

"No, you're not! That's not my sister's book! Ginny wouldn't read if Voldemort _himself_ tied her down and forced her to under pain of the _cruciatus curse._ Not even something that – ahem – _interesting_." He smirked down at Hermione. For some reason she seemed to feel that this merited a smack to the head with said book. "Ouch!" he rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, I'm sorry, ok? I didn't know what it was, so I – "

"You pulled it out of my bag and read it, completely invading my privacy." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at Ron. He had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

"I said I was sorry," he mumbled, looking very much like a little boy whose mother has caught him stealing from the cookie jar. "Besides," he said, suddenly smirking again, "I think we both know that the only reason you're upset about this is because I've found out what kind of books you read when you haven't got your nose stuck in _Hogwarts, A History._"

And with that, he snatched the worn volume out of her small hands and began to read aloud dramatically:

_"C'mere." He hooked a finger under her chin, guiding her face to meet his, and then proceeded to kiss her, softly, slowly, wonderfully, as if to reassure her that he was telling the truth. That he'd always be there, and always love her, and she was the only thing on earth that really mattered to him."_

He looked down at Hermione again and realized that her blush was deepening. For some reason, so was his.

"I still can't believe you read these," he mumbled, in a vain attempt to break the awkward silence that had fallen over them. Hermione drew her knees up to her chest and muttered something into one of them. "Sorry?" Ron said, although he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what she'd just said.

"I _said_, 'Maybe I wouldn't _have_ to read stupid old romance novels if _some people_ would help make my _own_ life more…interesting." Her face was about the same colour as a strawberry now. Ron looked down at her incredulously. She wasn't saying what he _thought _she was…_was she?_ Of course the only solution was to muck up this situation even more than it already was.

"Well, I'm sure _Vicky_ can help you with that," he said, bitterly. Hermione's embarrassment turned to anger in two seconds flat.

"God fucking _damn it,_ Ronald!" she shrieked, so loudly that he was sure she would wake the entire castle. She seemed to realize how loud she was being, because she lowered her voice (if only marginally) for the next bit: "I said I want 'some people' to make my life more interesting, all right? I mean _you!_ What do you not _understand_ about that? I have tried and tried and _tried_ to be subtle about it! I know you like me! I like you, too! You're just so fucking _thickheaded_ all the time that-" but she was cut off as he pressed his lips against hers urgently, bringing one large hand to her cheek and entwining the other one in her unruly hair. She gasped against his lips and he pulled her out of her armchair and into his lap, where she proceeded to kiss him back feverishly, running her smaller hands through his red hair and trying to get as close to him as humanly possible. When they finally broke apart for air, Ron smirked down at her and murmured,

"So you want me to make life interesting for you, do you?" He kissed her again. "That shouldn't be a problem, Hermione."

-:Fin:-


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